


spend some time away, getting ready for the day you’re born again

by thatsjustHoneyDewbabe



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Happy Birthday Keith (Voltron), Hurt Keith (Voltron), M/M, Missing Persons, No beta we post like men, Pining Shiro (Voltron), Sick Keith (Voltron), Whump, happy birthday keith LMAO, i think we'll have a happy ending, takes place after s7/when the war ends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2019-08-06 23:54:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16397474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatsjustHoneyDewbabe/pseuds/thatsjustHoneyDewbabe
Summary: Sometimes you don't realize the love you carry until that person's gone.





	1. i want you to have it all

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry about the probably inaccurate depiction of medical stuff. I'm dumb! And I didn't edit this either! This was written in three hours! Happy Birthday Keith!!!!

It’s going to be a mindless, run-of-the-mill mission. Keith volunteers because it’s a simple one. There’s someone stranded on Saturn’s moon. And Keith decides that he’ll be going alone, in a small aircraft carrier rather than Black.

 

“See you soon, Shiro.” Keith buries his face into the corner between Shiro’s neck and shoulder. Shiro feels his hot breath on his neck and hears a soft, pleased noise Keith makes when Shiro embraces him.

 

“Let us know if you need anything. I’ll fly over there myself,” He teases. They let go of each other, both a little red.

 

“I will. Bye.”

  
  
Shiro waves back, smiling.

 

It’s normal to lose contact for a while, when you go out in space as far as Keith’s traveling to. Nobody worries, until they don’t hear from Keith for a week. Shiro stops sleeping at night for a few days following. A week and a half later, the Blades of Marmora send their members out to find him. His aircraft may have stopped working.

 

“He’s probably stranded alongside whoever he has to rescue,” Kolivan says it so dismissively, that everyone’s nerves calm down a little. 

 

They find his plane. They don’t find him inside it. Nor do they find the person he’s supposed to rescue. In fact, that’s what sets an alarm off. There’s no signs of someone living on the moon. The Blades start an investigation with Krolia leading it. All of Voltron heads there as well, Black lets Shiro drive her.

 

And no one finds anything. Despair starts, and doesn’t leave.

* * *

 

They weren’t, no, they  _ were _ something. They were something that guided Shiro through life. It wasn’t that they weren’t something, it’s that whatever they had wasn’t enough. As soon as he realizes it, his stomach drops and Shiro's done for. It’s too late. They only reached the cusp of their true feelings. Shiro will never be able to respond to Keith’s pining, and his own.

 

It’s too late now. The love of his life vanished.

There’s always a small dash of hope floating around, because after all it’s Keith. Keith, who’d fight tooth and nail to make it back home. Keith, the outsider that worked his way into the core of Voltron. No one can outright say that he’s never coming home. And nothing is either confirmed, or denied. A body wasn’t found. A small chance, but a chance that he could be alive and trying to survive somewhere far, far out in the universe. On the edge existence.

 

Maybe it’s denial and reality hasn’t sunk her fangs into their situation yet. 

 

After no one finds anything, minutes turn to hours, hours turn to days, days turn to weeks, weeks turn into months-- it hurts everyone. Shiro thrives from his workaholic tendencies. Adam told him that he put work before relationships. For Keith’s sake, he was trying to change that. Now it’s got a mind of its own. He doesn’t have a life anymore outside of work.

 

Months turn into a year. Keith left when spring was blooming. Shiro stands beside Keith’s newly made grave on a bitter cold afternoon. Spring’s come late this year. After a year of only being a missing person, with no sources of thriving somewhere, they gave him a soldier salute and a spot next to his father. Seeing Keith’s name carved next to his father’s ignites something in Shiro that he has to shove to the side, for his own sanity. 

 

But his grave-- it’s hollow, and there’s sunshine peeks out from behind puffy gray clouds. He swallows and looks up at the sky. Wishing. 

 

Krolia interrupts his alone time with Keith. He still doesn’t know how to react around here, she ended up comforting the entire team, about  _ her  _ son. 

 

“You look cold,” She remarks. Shiro shakes his head a little.

 

“It’s been getting warmer out.”

  
  
“I hope spring comes soon.” Krolia bends over to press her fingers against the engraving of Keith’s name on the tombstone. “I know Keith liked spring.”

  
  
They’re quiet for a while, Shiro almost forgets about her presence until he hears her voice again.

 

“I’m so lucky,” Krolia says.

  
  
“Krolia?”

  
  
She turns to Shiro.

 

“I left Keith alone for most of his life. But when we met again, he accepted me, and didn’t hold any grudges towards me. The time we had was short, but it was so nice. I’m so lucky... Shiro,”

 

Shiro can’t keep his eye contact with Krolia. They start watering, and he looks down at Keith’s grave.

  
  
“Keith… wouldn’t want you to wait like this.”

 

Shiro knows. That's why the pain is still so raw.

* * *

 

Summer passes, things don’t change, and suddenly it’s the middle of fall.

 

October is the worse month. The first October without Keith was awful, and as the first week of October lulls by, the second one without him doesn’t improve. 

 

His birthday is at the end of the month, he’ll, no, he’d be around the same age that Shiro was when this whole adventure started.

 

But Takashi Shirogane can’t fold himself into his grief anymore. He pushes his troubles off. After all, the nights don’t get longer and quieter until the end of October.

 

An unmarked pod slams into the rock and sand of the desert. It’s over twenty miles away and still sends shockwaves through the Garrison. It’s unusual, but not the first. It could be a rogue Galra unaware of the war’s end, or just someone who ended up in a big predicament.

 

“It could be hostile,” Shiro observes from inside the Atlas. Lance and Pidge are available so he calls the two of them to fly over in their lions. By the time they get there, and provide shots for the Atlas, the crash made the pod lodged into a crater in the ground.

 

“It’s Galra,” Pidge circles the green lion around the crash site a few times, before beginning to land. “Heading in to see.”

  
  
“A Galra invasion, after the war is over?” Lance recklessly lands the red lion down without any caution. “Puh-lease! We’ll be out of here in no time.” The lion’s mouths open and while making mindless commentary, the duo decide that the pod isn’t much of a threat. But it’s stuck together, and the opening is smothered by rock.

 

“We can excavate it,” Pidge suggests. “It shouldn’t take more than a few days.”

  
  
“By then, it could be too late for whatever’s inside. Is there a way to force it open from this side?” Lance crosses his arms.

  
  
“My bayard,” Pidge takes it out and activates it.

 

“Be careful cutting into the wall, Pidge,” Lance warns while watching.

  
  
“The material isn’t too tough.”

  
  
Pidge delicately carves out a chunk of the ship and together, her and Lance pull out the piece to expose the inside of it. Suddenly, they’re quiet.

 

“Pidge and Lance, do you copy?” Shiro asks them from the Atlas.

  
  
They barely register Shiro’s voice, because neither one can respond.

 

It’s  _ Keith _ , buckled into a chair and jostled around from the crash. Keith’s eyes are hazed over in pain, and the belts around his chest are the only thing keeping him upright.

 

“Buddy--?” Lance rushes over to the seat and starts to unbuckle it. He catches Keith’s when he falls over. Pidge finds herself unable to move, she stands watching Lance fidget with Keith to try and hold him against his chest properly. One of his legs looks broken, there’s no way he can walk out of this.

 

“Is he breathing, Lance?” 

  
  
“Barely, holy--” Lance buries his face into the side of Keith’s neck.  _ “Holy shit. _ ”

  
  
That rustles Keith. “Lance,” he exhales softly. Then he stops, suddenly. Just stops. And Lance, hyped up on adrenaline and emotions, doesn’t notice it.

  
  
“You’re back,” Lance lets out a sob, holding him closer. Pidge’s mouth drops. “You idiot, we were so--”

 

“Lance…” She starts panicking. “A-are you sure he’s breathing?” Lance stops. They’re silent again. Keith’s slumped over in Lance’s arms and his face is turning into a color that only dead people have.

 

“Fuck.” And they’re putting Keith on the floor, adjusting him so he’s straight. Pidge starts to try and find where to rip the front of his suit off and Lance shoves her hands away. It’ll be harder, but the chest plate isn’t making a big difference to Lance. They’re all trained in CPR. Follow training. Follow what you’ve learned, and pretend that your friend’s life isn’t in your hands.

 

“Get Shiro,” Sickening cracks come out of Keith’s chest and flood their ears as Lance pushes down as hard as he can and keeps repeating the motion over, and over again. 

 

“Pidge? L-Lance, come in, what-- who do you see?” The last person that should be in the dark about this is Shiro, Pidge remembers while Lance stops focusing on anything else besides Keith.

 

“Keith’s-- we need a medic here. He’s,” Pidge lets out a sob and can’t keep her composure after it. “He’s not breathing. He’s not breathing. He’s not breathing. He’s,” 

 

He’s breathing by the time help arrives to get a breathing tube down his throat and keep him alive, until they get him to the Garrison hospital. Everyone else has to remind themselves to breathe.

* * *

Keith comes back to them half dead. The impact was worse than the first one with the black lion. His chest bone has a crack leaning on the right side, and several of his ribs are split in two. Some are from the crash, and some are from Lance. Humans die at that impact, a surgeon tells Shiro. Aliens may not. Shiro stays glued to Keith’s side, pale, because he feels like he’s been with a ghost the entire time. A cold touch, with low vitals and tubes wired through his chest, pelvis, and arms make Keith look like he came back from the afterlife.

 

Stabilizing him has been the top priority. Through hard work and several scary hours, they do that, the Garrison medical team, and ask Shiro what they should do next. Either send him immediately into surgery to repair his bones, or wait a night or two for a track record of stabilization.

 

Shiro decides on the later, honestly shaken up entirely by how everyone turns to him to decide Keith’s future. Had Krolia been called yet? Now, Shiro can’t deny that everyone else saw what Shiro thought they didn’t see.

 

A feeding IV is inserted into the side of Keith’s neck later on in the evening. Shiro craves alone time, but the Garrison practically closes as everyone piles in at one point or another during the day. Team Voltron visit all at once, and all of their pent up grief pours out into cries. It’s like a conga line, Hunk starts, and Shiro ends. Their crying lasts for a while, and Keith doesn’t show any sign of movement the entire time.

 

The MFE pilots come later, with a bouqet. James Griffin ends up shedding a few tears as well. Iverson shows up at the end of visiting hours, and tenderly brushes his hand against Keith’s head.

 

You’re so loved, Keith. Shiro wishes Keith was awake for all of this.

 

Shiro gets overnight privileges, and they cancel his schedule the following day. Finally, when they’re alone, Shiro wraps his hands around one of Keith’s limp hands and gently brings it to his face. It’s self-indulgent, and he’s selfish for touch. But, after the crying session with the rest of Voltron, he hasn’t cried since then. Keith needs him to keep his composure.

 

The next day, after getting an okay from the team of surgeons, they operate on Keith’s bones to put them back together. That’s when the first problem arises. The surgery itself is successful. His skin turns almost paper thin however, somewhere during it, and they’re barely able to stitch him back together without his skin ripping.

 

It’s doable however. Completely doable. The stitches stick and don’t tear after a few meticulous tries. When they finish and relief starts washing over them, Keith’s breath makes some sort of an incoming gurgling noise. If it wasn’t for a doctor suddenly jerking Keith’s head to the side, Keith would have unconsciously choked on what came out of his stomach and lungs, a slimy black sludge that reeks of blood.

 

Panic ensues. His vitals suddenly drop once more and the bile doesn’t stop. It spreads itself out of his mouth and nose and starts dripping onto the floor, touching against the soles of everyone’s shoes. The main surgeon opens him back up and cuts into his stomach. His eyes grow wide.

* * *

The news can’t reach Shiro’s ears any faster. He’s the first to know. He can’t run there faster. They lose him after the surgeon digs around in his body for more clues. After stubbornness and perseverance from both parties, Keith comes back after exactly a minute and twenty-two seconds.

 

Word is starting to spread, and finally, after Keith’s once more stabilized, he returns to his home in ICU. Everyone’s there. 

 

“What’s his diagnosis?” Shiro’s hands don’t stop shaking. The nurse that’s in the room with them has shoes stained in the black vomit. Lance has his hand on his mouth like he’s trying to keep back his nausea.

  
  
“There are black barbs that line his stomach and lungs. They’re sticky, and it’s almost impossible to remove them without tearing up his organs in the process. They release some sort of bile. We collected some to run it through lab.”

  
  
“We can get him into a pod, can’t we?” Allura suggests. “He’ll-- He’ll get better in a pod?”

 

“We tried that already,” the surgeon answers softly.

  
  
The biggest struggle is keeping Keith breathing while making sure his airways are open so he can hurl up more if he must. It comes out of his stomach and lungs. They all hope it sticks to his stomach. 

 

“But he’s a fighter,” The doctor assigned to Keith says. “He shouldn’t be on life support for too long.

 

“He always has been,” Shiro agrees.

* * *

The drugs used in chemotherapy don’t help. Neither does other drug cocktails, both ones formed by humans and by aliens. Finally, the Olkari have an answer for the things in Keith’s body. Toxic spores from an extinct tree on a remote planet. A planet that is hundreds of miles away from where Keith was headed to.

 

“If it’s extinct,” Pidge raises an eyebrow. “Then why is it in Keith?”

  
  
One of the Olkari’s face darkens. “They start off as tiny seeds and can easily be added into food or inhaled, where they grow.”

  
  
The implications are enough. This was on purpose. Someone is responsible for all of this, for their hell.

 

It takes  _ everything  _ for Shiro to not show how vindictive he feels and send the team off to find this person.  _ Everything _ , to calm down everyone-- especially Lance, and be the bigger person here.

 

“Keith needs us by his side. Besides, we don’t have any leads. He’ll tell us when he wakes up.”  

 

But he doesn’t wake up. Or show any signs of life. All he does is lay in bed motionless. Krolia arrives right after Keith’s first surgery, and Shiro can tell that she feels just as hopeless as they do. But she has to follow her status quo and hold herself together, just like Shiro’s been trying to do.

 

The only way for Keith to improve is physically removing them. Cutting open his lungs and stomach and picking them out. Some of the spores are so wedged into the organ walls that they have to be cut out. It’s a huge blow to whatever kind of stabilization Keith had. There’s a 50/50 chance during each surgery, and a 50/50 chance of recovering post-surgery.

 

After the sixth one, he’s still alive. Barely. ICU is his new home. Is this cruel? Shiro wonders to himself. Is it cruel to keep doing this to him? Most of the spores are out, but the ones still in him have been growing larger and larger.

* * *

 

Three months of constant surgeries, they’re all out. There’s no sort of celebration however. His organs have been ripped and are barely held together by stitches. His skin doesn’t fare much better. Keith’s been wrecked from it all. Before, the spores were the main threat. Now, it’s his body’s failing attempt to heal itself that’s threatening him with his life.

 

Then they lose him again. And again. And again. He officially dies three times in a week. Shiro spends Christmas begging Keith to wake up. Hope is naught, the atmosphere around the Garrison is despair. Shiro hasn’t gone into work for over a month, and Krolia hasn’t left Keith’s side either.

 

Shiro holds his breath when Keith’s doctor, the doctor who’s been with them since the beginning, comes into Keith’s room in the morning following New Year’s Day. He looks solemn. It’s an indicator that they’re about to have the worse conversation in Shiro’s entire life. 

 

“Sometimes,” the doctor inhales quietly and exhales before he continues. Shiro knows what he’s about to say, and from the way Krolia adjusts in her seat, she’s aware the news awaiting them isn’t good. “The best thing to do, is to let them go. Rather than let them suffer.” Even the doctor looks like he’s in anguish. There’s silence in the room as everyone tries to collect themselves.   
  


Krolia makes the official call. Take him off of it in the morning, she says with a shaky voice. It’s hitting Shiro so hard that he gets light-headed and his legs almost give out on him. One more night, and that’s it. One more night. Nothing after that. Keith’s grave will be full. There will be no more hope, no more looking up at the sky and hoping that he’s still out there-- somewhere.

 

Shiro calls team Voltron in, for a final goodbye-- because no one knows how fast Keith will go in the morning. He prepares himself for the worse reaction, and his preparation all goes to shit when he gets the same reaction from the first time Keith was brought to them. When there was hope of a steady recovery. Now there isn’t. And team Voltron will never, ever be the same. They shuffle out after what seems like hours of denial and crying. 

 

Krolia wants one more night to sleep beside her son. Shiro wants one more night to hold his hand and fall asleep in his chair beside Keith. But he considers forcing himself to put Keith in the back of his mind and leaving. He had years and years of Keith. She hasn’t. But Krolia grabs onto his hand, because she knows what he’s thinking of doing.

 

“Stay,” She pleads. And he’s not sure if it’s because Shiro is the closest to Keith after her. Or if Krolia knows that Keith would want this. Or if this is because Krolia needs support, and can’t be alone. Whatever her reason, he stays and takes up the chair next to the bed, while Krolia delicately puts herself beside Keith in his hospital bed, trying to avoid all of the tubes. Both of them fall asleep eventually.

 

Shiro stirs during the middle of the night. While he was sleeping, he leaned too far forward and has been using part of the pillow that Keith shares with Krolia, who’s on the other side of Keith. It was supposed to be like this, in a different setting. Sharing a pillow with Keith every night. 

 

“Keith,” Shiro says into his ear, playing with a lock of his hair. It’s so quiet, almost inaudible to anyone. Keith’s not brain dead, but that doesn’t mean that he’s anywhere near being conscious. Shiro doesn’t know if he can hear him. He hopes that Keith does. “You can go. Where half of the blades are, where your dad is, where I was. You’ve fought long enough. It’s okay.” His voice breaks for a second. He’s supposed to be the leader and comfort him about team Voltron, instead he only talks about himself, because God, he’s selfish.

 

“I’ll be okay.” It’s a lie. “I’ll lead the team, and fill in your shoes where you left off.” Also a lie. “You’re…” The pining was mutual. But a love confession the day before they’re sending him off to die? How can that comfort Keith  _ at all _ ?

 

“You’re my everything,” He decides on. Something completely true, and can also have multiple meanings. “And you’ll always be my everything.”

  
  
Watching him slowly go after being taken off of life support will be too much. Hopefully Shiro’s words will reach him and he’ll leave before both him and Krolia wake up. Shiro can’t believe himself that he thinks that, that he hopes they’ll wake up to his dead body tomorrow. He goes back to sleep, gripping Keith’s hand. Praying that when it happens, it won’t hurt.


	2. these days are numbered, honey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow hi!! I had no idea what to do here until a friend suggested something to me. I hope I pulled her concept off well enough! Please enjoy.

 

 

Shiro dreams of his mothers. The dream is from a memory long ago, before he had any flare-ups or hospital trips. They’re walking somewhere, dressed in formal black clothes. He’s so small that his mothers are each holding one of his hands to keep him from tripping or running off. The walk is tiring him out. The air’s thick with humidity and the breeze hardly runs through his hair.

 

They approach a traditional home surrounded by tall walls. His strict mother, who forces him to take English lessons, tells him to be good while his other mother, who never raises her voice, hoists him up in her arms to go inside. Most of their extended family is in the house with paper walls and oak floors. Shiro smells incense and hears bells ring. Someone cries. But he’s given the task of babysitting his one-year-old cousin, who loudly giggles when they play peek-a-boo and share toys together.

 

His strict mother, who always takes him out for ice cream after his English lessons, calls him over to say goodbye. For what, to who? He doesn’t know but he was raised to never ask. All of the adults are crowded around a box that he can barely see into. She hands him a white lily and tells him to put the flower in the box. But what’s in the box? He’s about to ask her as his eyes trail to the inside.

 

The box has a young man inside, with blued skin and collar bones that stick out like a spike. Everything tells Shiro to  _ run.  _ The box has something scary in it and he has to get  _ away _ . He takes off without a destination, whipping his feet as fast as he can for a small child. Someone says his name, loudly, almost scandalized. Despite how well intact his body is, Shiro knows that the man in the box didn’t have a painless death. It was a slow, gradual mauling of his insides. He isn’t in their family, he’s never seen him at family events-- yet Shiro has a feeling that the young man is _ important. _

 

But he can’t define what they were because maybe they were something, once. Now they can’t be anything other than nothing. 

 

Shiro opens his eyes to a scene different from the one the night before. Unlike in his dream, Keith’s skin is soft pink and there’s some ruddiness in his cheeks. He’s not like the man in the box. The hand that Shiro held is resting on top of Keith’s chest. The ventilator makes a slight buzzing noise as Keith’s chest moves.

 

Behind him, Krolia clears her throat and Shiro turns around. Was last night a dream? She takes in his questioning look with a calm smile.

 

He breathed a little on his own last night, she tells him with a tired smile. Opened his eyes a few times and pressed into her. The doctor said they should give it another go, and she agreed.

 

Shiro frowns, troubled. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

  
  
“I tried,” Krolia said while handing him a mug of coffee. “He told me no as best as he could manage.”

 

\---

 

The exhales seem bearable, inhales are a struggle. Everyone holds their breath. As the sun sets several long hours later, a pair of soft violet eyes blink open. 

 

Like clockwork, Shiro’s the first thing Keith looks for. Blindly. Clumsily. Scarily. But endearing, all the same.

 

 

\---

 

Upon waking up on his side, and not seeing Shiro, Keith does one continuous roll over to his other side. His body goes  _ plop  _ and noise emits from his chest that’s a mix of a horror-like groan and an uncanny crunch sound. Every device connected to Keith starts madly going off, and that’s more than annoying. The only possible solution to stop the ear-aching noise is to take everything off and out. They also prevent him from moving properly. Strong lights from the windows make his eyes water unless he blinks madly. He keeps his eyes shut and feels around for, something that’s, yes.  _ Yes _ . His fingers grab onto a tube of some sort, and there’s a strange sensation that crawls from his mouth his throat for the experimental tug. But it doesn’t hurt. And if it doesn’t hurt, his drugged brain thinks, then why keep it? Can’t be that important.

 

He grabs it firmly and counts down from five to pull it. Even that tug was exhausting, he has to focus all of his strength to get this fucking thing out. Keith starts from 5, manages to get to 2. But should he go by halves instead? Or count up? He decides to count up. One. Two. Four. Fix. Six. Six. Six… Six? 

 

What the hell comes after six?

 

Six works. Six--

 

Someone’s larger hands seize his the moment he starts pulling, grabs his wrists and doesn’t leave any wiggle room for Keith to free himself. Fire burns in his belly at being denied what he wants. He’s  _ pretty mad  _ at whoever this person is, and lets out a feral noise to warn them (that comes out more like a soft whine.) Like, who the fuck do they think they  _ are-- _

 

The person that the hands belong to says something. And Keith can’t understand the words, but he  _ knows _ that pleading voice. It immediately vanquishes all of the fight in him and puts him into an agreeable trance. Why does he want to rip out whatever he has going on anyway? What’s even in him that he wants to pull out? 

 

They say something else and start to retract their hands. Keith clumsily manages to grab and keep one of them. For some reason, he likes how big they are compared to his. He wishes he had the other one. His lamenting about only getting one hand goes away immediately when it begins to  _ pet his head _ , and not only pet, but scratch  _ right behind his ears _ . Whoever this person is, Keith owes them everything for these incredible scritches. Something in his chest vibrates.

 

Another voice joins in, and Keith knows that voice too. The emotions that come out are different, but he knows he’s very fond of this person too. He wants to see. He needs to see. But he’s not going to be able to stay awake much longer.

 

Just a peak. One peak. He can at least have one, right?

 

\---

 

He’s up by the following midday. Shiro leaves for a quick shower, and when he returns, bleary-eyed violet orbs cut into Shiro’s vision. Keith’s eyes have always taken on a unique, alien-like color, but have his irises always had this blinding saturation?

  
  
The question comes and goes in an eye blink, because Shiro thought that this day would never come to him, to anyone. He’s waited. Waited for so long, almost two years-- He stumbles forward and pulls Keith into the tightest hug that Keith can take. 

 

_ I love you. You’re my everything. We found each other. How many times are you going to save me? _

 

Keith tries to return Shiro’s hug, sluggishly wrapping his arms gently around Shiro’s neck. Coming together as one.

 

As many times as it takes.

 

…. At least, until a nurse comes in about a minute later, and chastises Shiro for not  _ immediately  _ ushering a nurse first. 

 

_ “The button is there for a reason, Mr. Shirogane.” _

 

Then, softening as Shiro starts trying to explain himself while sputtering.

 

_ “I know you’re happy, Mr. Shirogane. You’ve been by him the entire time, a few more minutes, and he’s all yours.” _

 

\---

 

The same nurse is joined by another to help remove the breathing tubes in Keith’s throat. By this time, Krolia’s back, holding a cup of ice to suck on in one hand, and supporting Keith’s back with her other. The doctor, checking his vitals, has a grin glued on his face. The room is bustling, Shiro has been left alone to the corner, to cry and look.

 

Keith doesn’t take his eyes off Shiro, staring at him in wonder.

 

\---

 

“I look,” Keith inhales. It’s been a week since the day he got the tubes removed, six days since they put him on oxygen, and half a day since they let him try and drink a supplement drink. He’s still struggling to control his voice. Everything comes out as breathy and quieter than how he normally talks. “Wrecked.”

 

“You do look pretty wrecked,” Lance nods in agreement. All of the paladins have spent their fair amount of time here. Shiro looks up from his datapad to shoot him a look of disapproval. “What?” Lance protests. “Maybe in your  _ goo-goo eyes _ he looks like a model, but for the rest of us he looks like he died like, five times.”   
  
_ I mean, _ Shiro thinks.  _ He’s not wrong _ . Keith did kick the bucket more than you’re supposed to. 

 

But he does look better. To others, Keith may look the same. Shiro’s been glued to his side for months now though, and just seeing Keith wake up, and adjusting himself in his bed makes him look incredibly good.

 

Shiro wants to kiss him.

 

They had finally managed to maneuver him to the shower this morning. It’s a bright day, still cold, but Keith convinced the nurses to crack the window open. Fresh, crisp hair is welcomed.

 

“Five?” Keith croaks, wearing a cocky grin. His voice is brittle caramel. “That’sit?”   
  
“You beat Shiro.” 

 

Shiro can’t help letting out a laugh.

 

“Five against one,” he says, taking his eyes off his datapad, to lift his hand to tuck a stray piece of Keith’s hair behind his ear. “You beat me by a landslide.” It’s so soft.

 

Keith ceases. Everything in him stills, besides his breathing. This has been his reaction to every other time someone touches him. Keith’s new off-button. None of the other paladins have seen it so far. The doctor thinks it’s just a side effect of the strong pain medications he’s on. 

 

Lance gags. “You two are  _ so _ ,” he stands up, scowling. “Man!”

 

That’s what Shiro thought at first too. That this is a look of Keith being completely struck by awe at Shiro. Shiro’s touch.  _ Because it’s Shiro’s touch.  _

 

But it  _ isn’t.  _

 

Keith’s expression is a reaction to touch. As Lance leaves, telling them to get a room, Keith suddenly drops his stare at Shiro, to study his own hands. It’s a revelation, of some sort. That he has hands. He lays them flat, then squeezes them. Moves his fingers, systematically.

 

Everyone says it’s the pain medication. 

 

Right. This will stop happening.

 

Shiro takes a risk.

 

“Hey,” he says quietly. He moves his organic hand in hopes of holding one of Keith’s. He barely presses his fingers to Keith’s before Keith gasps and pulls both of his hands towards his chest. Like Shiro burnt him.

 

“Keith...?” Shiro places his hand on Keith’s knee. Keith’s staring at his own hands again, rubbing at the place where Shiro touched him. Still, in awe. His actions unsettle Shiro.  _ Have been _ unsettling Shiro. Without realizing it, he squeezes Keith’s knee a little in worry. Keith snaps out of his stupor, looking back at Shiro, and blinking in confusion. 

 

“S’rry,” he says. Keith puts on a soft smile, Shiro assumes it must be an act for his sake. 

 

“You’ve… been doing that. A lot,” Shiro says hesitantly, still unsure if he’s worrying over nothing.

 

“Drugs,” Keith figures, slurring, but he looks troubled as well. “I” He pauses, leaving the room vacant of noise. Shiro sees his eyes ignite like he reached an epitome. A cool flame raising higher and higher. “Wasstha you?” Keith tugs on Shiro’s Altean hand. 

 

“What was me?” Shiro asks.

 

Keith ignores his question and holds his arms out.

 

“Here,” he commands. 

 

Shiro laughs. “Yes sir,” he nods. Keith’s neck is still attached to an IV, so Shiro cautiously shifts closer. Shifts closer to his stars. They can’t hold hands quick enough. And Keith, the Keith who shows Shiro a side of him that’s private, sighs in relief and rests himself against Shiro. 

 

“Need to sleep?” Shiro asks quietly. Keith nods.

 

“Stay here,” Keith says, lightly squeezing Shiro’s hand.

 

“Aye aye, commander.”

  
  
“That’s meeee.”

 

\---

 

The hospital reeks of disinfectant, hospital cuisine that’s only appetizing on a very empty stomach, and, strangely, an odor that he tries to explain as sick. No one else seems bothered by it. But they get to go outside and stretch their legs. Keith can barely stand.

 

Weeks have moved slowly but almost nothing has changed.

 

The state of his body feels so fragile, he’s never felt anything like it. Falling to the ground in his lion, followed by laying comatose for a week and a half, was child’s play compared to this. At first, he couldn’t believe how long he had been here. But now, awake and aware, he does. And staying in bed all day leaves him miserable. No one gives him answers when he presses for what his road to recovery looks like.

 

Some days, he can’t remember how to move his legs. Squeeze his toes. Swallow. Feel his fingers. How to take a deep breath in and out without oxygen tubes help. He’s barely mentioned this to anyone, even Shiro. Is this how Shiro felt on his worse days? 

 

Inevitably, his worries lead to Voltron. It keeps him awake. Voltron gave him another purpose. How will he lead Voltron? How  _ can  _ he? Even if he had complete mobility he’s lost an alarming amount of weight. He hardly has the same muscle mass that he used to have. It’s a fucking miracle that they haven’t been attacked yet.

 

Keith  bottles it all up. 

 

There is only one thing he offhandedly mentions to the doctor that bothers him. Sometimes he spaces out. His mind goes somewhere else. He refers to them as episodes. Most of the episodes include Keith looking at himself from above.

 

The doctor tells him it’s  _ just _ dissociation.  _ Just _ . It’s not common but these episodes are a side effect of the high dosage of pain medication they’re giving him.

 

_ Nothing to worry about _ . And if he brushes them off, then Keith should too.

 

But he can’t. 

 

“I don’t like them?”   
  
His doctor smiles and reassures him that this is all normal and his body’s too torn up. He could die from the shock. Keith noticeably deflates, chews his bottom lip. Something’s not _ right _ , but he doesn’t have any evidence to prove it.   
  


\---

 

Another month passes, the _ goo-goo eyes _ keep getting longer, and Keith agrees to an experimental treatment to try and speed up the healing process. A mix of steroids, both Earth and intergalactic, and standard antibiotics to prevent infections. He’s told that the medications might make him hallucinate.

 

By the third day of treatment, his breathing feels marginally easier. The nurses remove the IV in his neck and approve him for starting the BRAT diet.

 

The quick improvement means Shiro’s beginning to work out of the hospital now. Last night Shiro left to sleep in his own bed. Keith noticed how much it’s improved his demeanor when he visited this morning and sat with him during breakfast. 

 

Pidge stops by around lunchtime, saving Keith from shitty hospital food with something Hunk made for him. His stomach is still patchy and delicate at the seams. Nothing he eats can have seasoning. But, he’ll take the BRATS diet over the IV in his neck and the Ensures any day. 

 

She stays for a few hours, clicking away on her datapad. They fall into an easy comfortable silence, something Keith values in their relationship. Pidge glances up from her datapad after a nurse comes by and gives his daily cocktail of medications.

 

“What’s dying like?” Pidge asks, looking at the cup of pills in his hands.

  
  
Keith pops a few of the smaller ones in his mouth and swallows them dry. He thinks. ”It didn’t feel bad,” he says right off the bat. “Like falling asleep, but also not.”   


 

She grimaces. “Crikey.”

 

Keith shrugs. “Didn’t hurt.”

 

“Well.” Pidge looks up, trying to think of something to say. “... They say that’s the way to go.”

  
  
“Do they,” he answers dryly. Keith sighs, shifting to sit forward more. “What are you working on?”

  
  
Pidge hands the datapad to him to look over. The modifications on it make it look completely different from other ones. Keith starts reading at a random spot, squinting as he reads more and more. Something in his stomach turns as he figures the data out.   
  
“The spores,” he says faintly. Pidge nods.

 

“Mhm, Mom wanted to study them. Did you know that if you dissect them, they’re up of a bunch of stuff that looks like grains of sand? Or like small seeds.”

 

“I didn’t,” Keith mumbles, scrolling down. “No one’s told me anything.”

  
  
“Everyone’s telling me that you don’t remember,” Pidge says, putting her elbows on Keith’s bed and resting her chin on her hands. “You really don’t remember what happened?”

  
  
Keith shakes his head. “I don’t. It’s a blur-- I remember reaching several kilometers before the extraction point. Then Lance holding me after I crashed.”

  
  
“You think the guy you had to rescue did this?” Pidge squints.

  
  
“I… I reckon’ so,” Keith hesitates to jump to a conclusion. “But I can’t say for sure. I don’t remember.”

  
  
Pidge crosses her legs. “Shiro thinks someone put it in food that you ate.”

  
  
“The doctor thinks the same thing.”

 

“What do you think happened?”

  
  
“Like I said,” Keith grumbles. If it wasn’t for the pain medications, the inside of his cheek would be sore from how often he’s been biting at it. “I don’t know.”

  
  
Pidge nods and reaches to grab her tablet back, touching Keith’s shoulder for a moment for support.

 

And it happens  _ again _ . The room shifts and whitens. He’s standing above himself and Pidge, looking down at the two of them. Pidge can’t yank it away from that Keith’s hands, does he have a strong grip on the datapad? Keith’s hands feel empty. 

 

Each time this happens, he’s at a loss of how to react. And these spells are getting longer. Is any of this even real, did his brain conjure it up? Did he actually die? Is this the afterlife? Pidge appears like she’s becoming more frustrated. But he can’t hear her. The episodes mute his ears. It’s like looking in on a silent film.

 

“Put me back,” he raises his voice, annoyed. Nothing happens. Pidge stops, looks at that Keith that’s laying in the bed in bewilderment. She says a few more things and waves her hand in front of his face. But that Keith doesn’t move. He never moves. All he does is stare and acts fascinated like he’s never had a body before.

 

Keith, (the Keith) yells, “I said, put me back!” 

 

That gets the other Keith’s attention. He must hear him, somehow. That Keith slowly turns his head towards Keith,  _ the  _ Keith. The Keith trapped in dissociation hell with nowhere to go and helpless to try anything. 

 

And that Keith’s eyes have no irises or pupils. Just a clean white on the entire eyelid. The stare is unmeasurably uncomfortable. Something freezing shoots down his back while his hair bristles.

 

_ Just who in the fuck is this?  _

 

“What--”

 

He blinks, and he’s back. He’s Keith. The Keith and that Keith. He’s all Keith. The one and only Keith. His strong grip on the data pad has nearly put a crack on the side. The longevity of the grip makes his fingers and wrist ache. He lets go immediately and Pidge yanks it to her chest.

 

“What in the hell  _ was _ that?” Pidge exclaims, her glasses sliding down her nose. “You stopped functioning and started staring straight ahead. Like no one was here.”

 

Keith opens his mouth to respond, but she keeps going.

 

“Has this been going on? Tell me,” she demands. “Mom needs to know about this.”

  
  
“Pidge,” Keith tries to reassure. He puts his one on top of her shoulder. “They got everything out.  _ Everything,”  _ he refutes. “It’s only the drugs.”

 

He doesn’t know if it’s only the drugs.

 

Pidge definitely doesn’t think it’s only the drugs. She crosses her arms and wiggles his hand off.

 

“Things can absorb and  _ linger _ , Keith,” she snaps. Her tone isn’t stemmed from anger, it’s fear. Pidge starts gathering her things and getting up.

 

“Don’t tell me you’re going to go tell someone,” Keith asks, dreadful. Worrying everyone he knows again, drawing more attention to himself, is the last thing he wants to happen.

 

“Someone has to,” she says. Keith frowns. “This is serious!” she adds. “I’ll tell you what my mom thinks.”

 

She doesn’t walk out immediately. Before opening the door, Keith sees her shoulders drop. She exhales and flips around to him. “I just want you to be okay, alright?” she explains. Her voice is thick, and Keith sees her eyes rimmed with red.

 

“I know,” Keith says. He’ll never be as good as Shiro with comforting his teammates but he always gives it his best shot. His voice turns soft. If she was closer, he’d pat her head or rub her back. 

 

“But, please, don’t lose any sleep over this,” Keith asks, turning his leader voice on. “And tell Hunk that he’s one of the  _ only _ people I know who can make something taste food without spices.”

 

She waves before she leaves. “Will do, fearless leader.”   
  



End file.
